Evil Angel
by SailorDeath13
Summary: After Amaimon bails on a fight, Rin gets suspicious. Mephisto starts to investigate his brother's odd behavior, but is pulled away to help with a demon attack in America. As it would turn out, Amaimon may be behind it. Slight Amaimon/OC, but not particularly romantic and not a huge central theme. Set well after the show ends. M for dark themes.
1. Evil Angel

**Azrael: I know I've been essentially dead on this website on both accounts for a while now. I am still working on stories, but I probably won't post them until they're done, which takes a long time. My problem is that as soon as people start reading and giving feedback, I have a really hard time working on the story. However, this idea hit me a few weeks ago while I was listening to _Evil Angel_ by Breaking Benjamin, and I finally got the chance to write it out. I hope you like it. I'll probably write additional one-shots that take place before this story at a later time, but I really need to work on the homework I've been putting off all day. This is implied later in the story, but this takes place well after the anime ends.**

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><p>Blue flames engulfed his vision, searing the smoky silhouettes of burning trees into his cerulean eyes. Ashes choked him, biting and stinging as they forced their way into his lungs. He tried to shut out the sight, to clear his mind. If only the world would stop spinning. Jumping to the side, he narrowly avoided a massive camphor as it came crashing down. Amid the crackling of the blaze and the thunder of collapsing branches, there was the distinct sound of footsteps growing closer, closer. Stumbling back, he dodged a furious swipe from long, pale claws. With an animalistic snarl, the demon before him whipped around and threw a punch. He felt the impact of his brother's fist as though it had come through a pillow. Muted. Numb. But the force of the blow sent him flying through the cinders and smouldering ghosts of trees. A rough cough shook his lithe frame. The smoke that clogged his lungs seemed to have seeped into his skull, but he couldn't shake it quite so well. What was <em>wrong<em> with him? Shoving himself off the grey earth with more force than necessary, he glared in the direction of the raven-haired devil spawn that stalked toward him with a murderous expression. This had to end. Slamming his heel down, he sent a tremor through the forest floor that split the earth at his brother's feet. A look of surprise washed over the demon's face as he slipped into the crevasse. With an exclamation of profanity, Rin scrambled to grab hold of the edge. The green haired demon started toward the harried man that was struggling to pull himself out of the small canyon that had nearly engulfed him. He stopped short. His ears were ringing. A high, keening tone cut into his mind, causing him to grab his head in agony. That was when he heard it. A soft, weeping voice whisper his name. _Amaimon...please..._ He stood straight then, feeling as though he'd been doused with frigid water. That voice...he knew it well. Well enough to know that if she was summoning him, something had gone very, very wrong.

Rin watched in confusion as Amaimon stiffened and turned his gaze to the west. His eyes were wider than usual, and something about his expression was disconcerting. The King of Earth looked...worried. Without a word, he dashed off so quickly that he seemingly disappeared, but Rin knew better. He pulled himself onto solid ground and ran after him, the desire for revenge still burning within him. That bastard had gone too far this time. It was one thing to constantly harass him to cure his boredom, but lately he'd been bringing Yukio and Shiemi into it as well. Yukio was fine - he could handle it - but poor Shiemi was about to have a heart attack. The exorcist in training followed the trail left by his brother (though he hesitated to call him that), but found that it ended abruptly between two gnarled, twisted trees. Somehow, they'd escaped the worst of the inferno thus far. Rin looked frantically for any trace of Amaimon, but he seemed to have vanished into thin air. He walked around the trees and then jumped up to examine the branches for any sign that someone had been there before him. Nothing. There wasn't a single trace of the demon king. Returning to the ground, he retraced Amaimon's steps. Each footprint was far from the ones before and behind it. He'd been running full tilt toward those trees. Rin did the same. When he reached the last track, he wasn't sure what to expect. He passed between the trees and skidded to a stop, retching at the stench of sulfur and rot. Whatever the hell had been there, it was Gehennan for sure. Rin was certain it spelled trouble. Knowing he wasn't going to be able to solve the mystery by himself, the man pulled out his phone and dialed his brother's number. "Yukio, I need your help. How fast can you get here?"

"Yukio's busy," a voice sounded behind him, "Perhaps you'd like to explain what happened."

"Mephisto?" Rin spun around to stare at the strangely-dressed man in surprise, "What are you doing here?"

"I couldn't help but notice the mess you were making outside my academy, and I decided to put a stop to it," Mephisto replied casually, as though he really couldn't care less. To be fair, he'd been dealing with Rin's shenanigans for nearly 14 years now, so he was quite accustomed to them.

"Amaimon was here," Rin answered shortly.

"Of course he was. You two can't seem to control yourselves around each other." he sighed, "It's always the youngest."

"Shut up, you weird clown. Look, we fought like normal, but then he freaked out and ran off. He disappeared there," he pointed towards the twisted trees as he said this, "but I can't figure out where he went."

"Hmmm," Mephisto played with his violet goatee and examined the spot with a bit more interest. It wasn't like Amaimon to abandon a fight, especially not with his favorite victim. When he caught the scent of Gehenna, Mephisto frowned. "He may have opened a portal home. There's a weak spot in the barrier between the worlds here."

"Why?"

"I cannot say for sure. Oh well, at least he's out of my hair for the time being." Mephisto grinned, then turned on Rin, grabbed him by the ear, and proceeded to drag him back to True Cross Academy, "In the meantime, you need to take care of this forest fire, write an incident report, and get your wife to have her little friends regrow everything you've destroyed. Okay?"

"Ow, quit it Mephisto! I'm not five!"

The purple haired demon just laughed at his little brother's protest and refused to let go until they'd reached the outer gates of the campus. Leaving him with strict orders to get things fixed post haste, Mephisto sauntered off to his office to make a phone call. He tried Amaimon's number twice, but it went to voicemail both times. The third time he called, it rang once before Amaimon answered and immediately hung up. The calls went directly to his inbox after that. Mephisto growled at the stupid little greeting. _Hello, you have reached the inbox of "What am I supposed to say again, Aniue? Oh yes, I'm Amaimon" is not available. If you'd like to leave a call-back number-._ He pressed the end button so hard he nearly cracked it. What the hell did Amaimon think he was doing? Mephisto was about to pitch the phone out the window when it chirped merrily at him. He answered it immediately without checking the caller ID.

"About damn time!" he snapped.

"Did you know about this?" an angry female voice growled from the other line.

"Huh? Who is this?"

"Shura, you idiot."

"Yes, of course. What can I do for you?"

"You can start by getting your ass to America. We have a problem."

Of course they did. Because he didn't have enough of his own issues to deal with. "What happened?"

"I'll fill you in when you get here. Now hurry up."

"Fine."

With a growl, Mephisto ended the call. This time, a dark fissure split the center of the button. One half landed on the floor with a pitiful clack while the other hung limply from the abused device. The birds in the shrub outside could barely fly away fast enough as the pink piece of plastic and metal went careening past, shattering into dozens of pieces as it struck the sidewalk with the force of a cannonball. Mephisto stalked to his office door and jammed an infinity key into the lock. Twisting the key roughly, he jerked it open to reveal vestibule of the American branch of the Knights of the True Cross. The Manhattan Division, if he wasn't mistaken. Shura tapped her foot impatiently and waved him over. He glided smoothly over to her, trying to mask his frustration, and followed her to a small conference room. Many other high ranking members of the Order were present.

"Alright, people, we need to deal with this situation quickly before everything goes to shit. We've got reports of what appears to be a demon attack in an apartment complex about twenty minutes east of here off Washington Street. A neighbor reported screams to the police, then the phones cut out. Officials responded in about ten minutes, but they can't get in. The electricity's gone out on the entire block and a freak storm cloud has appeared right over the building. It's got the mark of demonic bullshit all over it, and we need to get in there to help. Any questions?"

No one said a thing. They all focused their grave attention on the man that had just finished speaking. He cleared his throat and gave each of them a measured look.

"Then let's go, before this becomes a massacre."

A few minutes later, the small group of exorcists gathered outside the building as a set of officers slammed into the front gate with a battering ram. The wrought iron bent, but did not give way. They tried again.

"Arias, help them get in," the man, whom Mephisto had dubbed "Sir" for lack of an introduction, snapped, gesturing for a scrawny teenage girl and an older gentleman in a stiff suit to go to the gate. They began to chant different verses from the Bible.

In the meantime, Mephisto, Shura, and another, unremarkable, man walked the perimeter of the building to try to find a weak spot in the barrier. The longer they walked, the greater the sinking feeling in Mephisto's gut became. The area was eerily silent. If it hadn't been for the disrupted police call, no one would have known that something was amiss. There was also a certain air around the building that Mephisto belatedly recognized. This aura was definitely Amaimon's. He'd know his baby brother's energy anywhere. What the hell was he doing? The trio finished their sweep of the perimeter and reported back to Sir. The barrier was solid all the way around at ground level, but there was an open window on the fifth floor in the back of the building. It might be weaker there, if they could find a way to get to it. Mephisto understood the look Sir gave him. _Get in there._ Nodding, he vanished in a plume of pink smoke and appeared floating in midair by the window.

"Ein, zwei, drei," he said without the usual flourish and pointed his ice cream themed umbrella directly at the window. A dark green crack appeared a few feet in front of him and began to spread in all directions, turning lighter as it crept around the building before disappearing altogether. A metallic clatter told the demon that the barrier was gone. That was the last sound he heard before the hellish screaming pierced the relative quiet of the New York neighborhood. The tenants of the apartment were clearly terrified and pleading for help. Above the cacophony of fear, one scream defined itself. It was one of true terror and pure agony. Whoever was emitting those guttural sounds was in immense pain, and would likely not survive whatever he was enduring with his sanity intact...if he survived at all.

"Mephisto!" Shura shouted at him from below, "Get down here and help get everybody out!"

His gut told him to go in that open window, but he acquiesced Shura and followed her through the back door. People were still trapped in their apartments and Sir wanted them to be the first priority. It was unlikely that they'd be able to help whatever poor souls had already been targeted by the demon, so they needed to reduce his number of potential new victims as quickly as possible. Part of Mephisto agreed, but the other part nagged at him to get up to that open apartment immediately. He was sure that whatever had caused the tremendous spike in his brother's bloodlust was up there, and his curiosity would not be sated until he knew what that was. But Sir was in charge of this mission, so he would abide by his decision...for now at least. When they finally reached the fifth floor, he made a beeline for the apartments at the end of the hall. The old aria shouted at him not to be hasty, but he paid him no heed. He blasted open the door on the left with a quick incantation and reeled at the stench of blood. Dark red footprints marred the light tan carpet in the hall from the first door down to the third, which quietly clicked shut. Mephisto barreled down the narrow passage and wrenched the door open as the blood-drenched figure of his brother leapt silently out the window. He appeared to have been carrying something, but he'd vanished over the rooftops before Mephisto could follow him. Someone vomited outside the door. Mephisto turned to tell them that the demon had left and that he was going after him, but the words died on his lips when he saw the carnage in the room he'd bypassed. A shredded, broken corpse lay in pieces in all corners of the room. Blood covered nearly every surface, giving the room an eerie, red glow. Whoever this was, he or she must have done something to seriously piss off Amaimon. A slender woman was carelessly tossed on the bed, her powder blue nightgown stained with red. Her neck had been broken. No, crushed was a more appropriate word. Blood-flecked foam was still present on her lips and chin. The whole scene was enough to give even the most seasoned exorcists nightmares, but there was something about the woman's body in particular that bothered him. Finally, it dawned on him that her eyes were closed. People generally didn't close their eyes when they were being strangled. Mephisto squinted at the smear of blood on the bridge of her nose, her forehead, and her eyelids. If he was not mistaken, it was a smudged handprint. Amaimon had closed her eyes after he killed her. But why? It was clear now that these murders were intensely personal and far from random.

The question of why lingered over Mephisto's head like a dark cloud over in the weeks to come. A full-scale investigation was launched by the Vatican, but it rapidly went cold. At first, there was a fear that the demon would strike again, but when no clues to his whereabouts surfaced and no more murders occurred, resources were shuffled to other, more pressing matters. Mephisto questioned many of his contacts both in Assiah and Gehenna, but no one had seen his brother. No one knew where he was, and the others that might've known could not be reached. It was infuriating. Every morning, Mephisto glared at a series of newspaper clippings in a folder on his desk. One headline, in particular, always stood out. _**Missing daughter of murder victims presumed dead.**_ Mephisto had thought that he'd seen Amaimon carrying something when he'd escaped, and he was now certain that it was that girl. Her name was Maria Greyson. She was sixteen years old, still just a child. What had Amaimon done with her? Where did he take her and why? Mephisto wouldn't know the answers to those questions for a very long time.

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><p>The portal gaped before the Earth King, revealing the reddish haze of the Gehennan atmosphere. Amaimon threw himself into it with a single thought. <em>Run.<em> He had to run. He had to hurry. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. The knife that had buried itself in his gut twisted as he bolted past demon after demon, monster after monster. A gargantuan dragon-like creature roared a challenge at him, but he ignored it, barreling past the creature and its mate. _Run!_ He hauled himself up an icy precipice and launched himself from that mountain to the next. He continued to throw himself from cliff to cliff to clear the mountain range as quickly as he could, gaining momentum as he went. _Faster! _He should have just leveled the damn things. _Move!_ Amaimon kept running, clearing miles in seconds. Suddenly, he skidded to a halt in the middle of a barren desert. _Here._ He slashed his claws through the air, leaving sky blue streaks in their wake. The wounds in the air spider webbed out, reaching toward each other until a new portal formed. Jumping through it, the demon found himself in a familiar alley.

Layer upon layer of colorful graffiti screamed at him from the dirty brick walls. The rough, cracked concrete below him was littered with refuse and reeked of vomit, piss, and rotting food. Amaimon hurried out to the street, nearly tripping over a homeless man that had blended perfectly with the garbage in which he'd taken refuge. Stars twinkled weakly above the skyscrapers and city lights. The horizon was dusted with pale blue and lavender. It always happened around this time. She always needed him at twilight. But she'd never called him before. Not like this. The demon king hurried down the block toward "the Village" apartment complex where she lived. He'd never understood the name. The large, rectangular building in no way resembled a village. She'd laughed when he told her that. She laughed a lot around him. He didn't know why, but he liked it. He liked her laughter and her smile. Maybe it was because she only showed them to him. It was a secret just for the two of them. Something that rare had to be treasured. Amaimon crossed the busy street, ignoring the honking horns and bright headlights of the traffic. He didn't have time to wait for them to get out of his way. When he finally reached the Village, he jumped to the roof, not wanting to waste the time walking around the building. He hopped off the other side, grabbing hold of her windowsill when he reached it. As usual, the window was locked, but a snap of his fingers changed that. Sliding the cheap piece of wood-framed glass up with a bit of effort, Amaimon hoisted himself inside the small apartment and landed on her rickety wooden desk. His eyes immediately focused on her limp form on her bed.

"Maria," he whispered softly.

"H-hey, Angel," she replied. The effort to speak caused a violent coughing fit to erupt.

"Angel?" he asked when she quieted down, smiling slightly in spite of himself, "You're still calling me that?"

"I'm n-not s'p-posed t' say your n-name," Maria answered mirroring his smile.

Amaimon crossed the room in the blink of an eye and sat beside her. Her bare skin was littered with dark bruises and a small pool of blood was forming beneath her hips. The demon clenched his fists and glared at a particularly nasty spot under her left breast. Her ribs were cracked and one threatened to puncture her delicate skin. Maria coughed again. A few drops of blood spattered her sheets. Amaimon hoped that it was just from her split lip. If there was blood in her lungs that meant that she was...

"I...I think I'm d-dying," Maria said weakly.

"No, you're not," the Earth King replied without hesitation. She couldn't die.

Maria smiled at him and laid her hand on top of his. Her arm wasn't supposed to look like that. Had he broken that too? A fury like Amaimon had never known began to replace the fear he'd felt. This was the last straw. That bastard had hurt her for the last time.

"I j-just wanted t' say g-goodb-bye," she said.

Shaking his head, Amaimon insisted that she'd be okay. He was going to get her out of that damned, accursed "Village." He should have done so years ago, but he wasn't nearly so attached to her back then.

"Angel," Maria whispered.

"Yeah?" he asked, trying to hide his maelstrom of rage and hatred from her. She'd think he was angry with her for summoning him.

"I...think I might lo-love you. I-is that t-totally crazy? To l-love your g-g-" another rough cough cut her off, but he had a sneaking suspicion he'd known what she was going to say. _To love your guardian angel._ That's what she thought he was. A guardian angel come to save her from the hellish reality of an alcoholic father and a mother too afraid to stop him. Jack Greyson had gotten into a nasty habit of taking his disgust with himself and his life out on his wife and daughter. Ten years ago, he'd transferred the beatings in part to Maria. A few years later, he escalated to far worse things. Amaimon gently stroked her hair.

"Not at all," he replied.

Maria closed her eyes and leaned her head against Amaimon's thigh as he continued to run his fingers through her hair. They sat there in silence for what felt like an eternity before Maria's breathing became more labored. Every breath sent stabbing pain through her chest. She coughed endlessly, trying to dislodge the sliver of bone from her lungs. Amaimon tried his best to comfort her, but he soon realized that it was a lost cause. Maria really was dying.

"Amaimon," the girl was barely able to speak, "Please make the pain stop. Please..."

_Put me to sleep, evil angel._

He didn't want to. For once, he was incredibly reluctant to end a human life. For once, he had to kill someone out of mercy, not out of boredom. For some reason, that was a hard thing to do. Amaimon leaned down and pressed a light kiss to Maria's forehead. He would do it. He had to do it. Swallowing painfully, he looked at her smiling face one last time before he snapped her neck in one swift motion. Gently, he pressed a finger to each eyelid and slid them closed, unable to bear her lifeless brown eyes staring up at him. Something inside him shattered just then. His fury seemed boundless as he slowly rose from her bedside and walked silently to the apartment's only other bedroom. Jack was snoring loudly, as often he did when he'd had too much to drink. His wife, Darcy, lay awake, aching from the assault that she herself had suffered that night and lamenting the horrid fate that she and her daughter were forced to endure. More than anything, she hated herself for being partially grateful that her husband had turned the brunt of his "attentions" toward their daughter, so that she didn't have to take it all. Darcy couldn't look anyone in the eye anymore, least of all Maria. She hardly slept these last few years, and it was taking a huge toll on her health. She often suffered waking nightmares of footsteps in the hall, doors opening, and whispered voices. So she hardly noticed when their bedroom door creaked open. Nor did she pay any mind to the quiet, cat-like footsteps approaching their bed. The shadows on the walls shifted as always they did. It was only after one of them passed the window that she was startled to attention. A strange boy not much older than Maria stood beside Jack, his face engulfed in darkness. Darcy didn't know what to do. She was frozen with fear, and then she screamed. The loud, shrill note perforated the thin walls of the complex, piercing the calm, drowsy evening. The blow came before Darcy even registered that they boy had moved. She crumpled onto the floor, but her cry had done its job. Jack had woken from his alcohol-induced slumber and was clumsily trying to fight Amaimon, who dodged him with ease. Darcy's vision swam as she crawled to the door. Glaring at her, the demon king used his supernatural energy to slam the wooden barrier against its frame.

Across the hall, a woman was frantically dialing 9-1-1, but her plea for help was cut off in the middle of the conversation. She tried again, but the phones were dead and the building had been plunged into complete darkness. Screams and shouts echoed from all around, driving her terror level higher and higher. What was she going to do? Rushing to the front door, she attempted to tug it open, but it wouldn't budge. She flipped the deadbolt, but it was as though the door had been nailed shut. Full-on panic began to set in. The woman screamed and cried and fruitlessly yanked on the handle until it broke off. The door still wouldn't open. Through the new hole in her door, the woman heard a profane yell from her neighbor's apartment. It wasn't all that uncommon. Most people knew what Jack did, or at least had an idea, but no one wanted to get involved. Suddenly, the colorful curse turned into a cry of pain, followed by another and another.

_Open your wings evil angel._

Amaimon's deadly claws ripped through the disgusting human's flesh with ease. He was going to pay that bastard back hundredfold for every time he hurt Maria, for every bruise, every scar, every rape. He was going to beat this parasite until there was nothing left to destroy. More than once, the demon had to revive the bastard when he blacked out from the pain. He would not escape his punishment. Amaimon doubted that he was much good as a guardian angel, but he could certainly be an avenging one. He was careful, oh so meticulously careful, not to give Jack any injuries that would kill him quickly. He had to suffer as Maria had suffered. He would not be allowed to die so easily. Darcy vomited at the sight of all the blood, from the brutish violence, the likes of which she'd never before witnessed. She tried to scream for help, but the sound stuck in her throat every time she tried. The demon ripping her husband to pieces would shoot her a look so murderous that she didn't dare make a sound. Stifling her sobs to the best of her ability, Darcy curled up in the cubbyhole that served as their closet and prayed to any god that would listen to save her. She squeezed her eyes shut and covered her ears, trying to block out the grizzly scene as best she could. Time seemed to slow to a halt, and then, all too quickly, Darcy realized that Jack's screaming had stopped. She felt a presence close to her face. Terrified to open her eyes, but even more frightened to keep them closed, she whimpered and faced the blood-soaked visage of the boy crouching beside her. He examined her tear-stained cheeks with a contemplative expression. Meeting his azure gaze, she begged him in vain not to hurt her.

"You're just as guilty as he was," the boy replied coolly.

"Please, I have a daughter. She needs me," Darcy begged.

"No, but she _did_ need you, and you were too much of a coward to help. You should have stopped him," Amaimon hissed.

"I know, and I'm sorry. I'll do better from now on, I swear."

"It's too late."

His arm snaked out and snatched the front of her nightgown. Dragging her to her feet, he pulled Darcy toward the center of the room so she could see what was left of her husband.

"Oh God," she sobbed.

"You can be certain that he won't be where you're going," Amaimon growled.

He flexed his claws and prepared to strike her when the light from a passing car illuminated her frightened countenance. The demon hesitated. She looked too much like Maria, with her dark brown curls and wide chocolate eyes. He couldn't do that to her. Besides, Maria never hated her mother as much as she hated Jack. The woman was just as much his prisoner as her daughter. Amaimon released the front of her dress and caught her under the chin, where he squeezed until her throat collapsed and her neck broke. It was a quick death, but she still paid for what she'd done. Knowing Maria would want him to, Amaimon pushed the woman's eyes closed. He tossed her onto the bed without a second glance and began to leave the room when he heard rushed footsteps outside the front door. He strode back to Maria's room, certain that his barrier would hold long enough to still get her out. She would not be left to rot in that disgusting place. _**Bang!**_ The front door burst open. Wrapping her pale from in his bloody coat, he scooped her up and carried her to the window. He leapt out just as Mephisto threw open the door. He could tell that his brother wanted to follow him, but for some reason, he didn't. That was just as well. He needed to be alone right now.

The demon hopped from rooftop to rooftop until he'd left the city behind. The hazy lights were just a speck on the horizon as he ventured into the heavily-wooded mountains. He wound his way through the dark trees, searching for an important spot. It was a little meadow off a hiking trail, the place they'd first met. Little Maria had gotten separated from her kindergarten tour group, but instead of crying, she was busy making crowns out of the wildflowers. She'd offered one to Amaimon when he approached her. He'd only come over because he'd smelled chocolate. The Earth King shook the memory from his head. He didn't want to think about that. He didn't want to remember when Maria had been so trusting and constantly happy. An odd pain formed in his chest every time he did. Finally, after nearly half an hour of searching, Amaimon was certain he found the right place. He carefully laid Maria on the soft meadow grass and began to dig. He knew he could just as easily call a hobgoblin or command the dirt to move at his will, but somehow that didn't seem right. He needed to do this, though he couldn't be sure why.

Sentiment was new to him. Love in any form was new to him, really. Sure, he knew about it, but he'd never really felt any sort of affection for anything aside from his lollipops and, of course, his Behemoth. But candy and even Behemoth could be replaced. There were new lollipops at the store every day, and one hobgoblin really wasn't all that different from another. There was only one Maria. One Maria with her barking laugh and her rare smiles. One Maria that shared all of her secrets with him. One Maria who said she loved him, trusted him more than anyone else. One Maria, who lay dead beneath the veil of his coat. Swallowing the pain that clawed its way up his throat, Amaimon continued to dig until her grave was deep enough. He lowered the girl into the earth and began to cover her with soil. After a moment, he paused and willed the soil to turn to crystal, changing her earthen tomb into a glittering coffin. When he packed the rest of the soil back in place, he waved his hand over the area, causing wildflowers to shoot up over her gravesite. Something still wasn't right. Of course, it needed a marker. He summoned an infant Greenman to his side and ordered it to produce a seed for a cherry tree - Maria's favorite. He planted it by her head and fed it some of his energy. The seed quickly took root and stretched its limbs toward the sky, bursting into bloom in a rush of pink petals. _Perfect._

"Goodbye, Maria," he said softly to the tree. The wind rustled its branches, as if to reply. And with that, he disappeared into the forest. He returned every day for the next few weeks, as if to ensure that the tree still stood. He knew that Mephisto was looking for him, probably furious that he'd turned his phone off - in his defense, he was a bit preoccupied with murdering Jack Greyson - and ready to banish him to Gehenna for eternity for breaking their "no killing" agreement, but he didn't care. He had to look out for Maria. He'd failed her in life; he would not do so in death. Now he would be her guardian angel. He owed her at least that much.

_Fly over me, evil angel._


	2. Echoes of Angels that Won't Return

**Azreal: Hullo readers! Sorry for the long wait, but I've put a lot of work into this story - writing and rewriting and editing like crazy. I had some requests to continue _Evil Angel _****_** (thank you to random girlz and Yoko-Zuki10)**_, and I really wanted to do more with it. However, I wasn't quite sure _how_ I was going to go about a sequel. I wanted to write about too many things and I just wasn't sure how to make it work. Eventually, I came up with this idea. There will be more chapters as I have time - hopefully you won't be waiting too long. Each chapter will sort of be a standalone, oneshot type deal. Since they're all connected, I figured I'd put them in one place. Please let me know what you think, and if there's anything you'd like to see in the future. I have a basic timeline/overarching plot figured out for this series, but there's plenty of room for little side stories or mini-archs. Thank you all for reading!  
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><p>Mumbled, half-hearted prayers reverberated eerily off the cool stone walls of the Santa María Catholic Parish. Mephisto felt the familiar nausea and unease that came from setting foot on hallowed ground. Despite the sweltering June heat, the demon felt chilled to the bone as he quietly passed the muttering parishioners. Some were dressed in drab, dark, formal clothes, but most wore denim or khaki shorts paired with shirts of varied levels of ostentatiousness. Just off to his right, a woman jerked her head up so quickly that her mousy-brown bun came loose. She stared at him with a mixture of fear, disdain, and hatred, which Mephisto easily shrugged off. He knew he wasn't welcome there, and would have happily avoided it if not for the business he had. Someone by the name of Father Theodore Romero wished to speak to him about "the incident" at exactly six o'clock pm on Tuesday, the second of June. He'd been very explicit on that matter, though which incident he wished to discuss remained unclear. The demon hoped against hope that it involved the murders that Amaimon had committed the previous year. Thus far, he still hadn't the slightest inkling as to what the Earth King had done with the girl, Maria, or why he'd killed her parents. At one point, these were questions that Mephisto had desperately wanted answered, but as the months passed with no word, he'd been forced to focus his attention elsewhere.<p>

A particularly loud recitation of "Hail Mary" jolted Mephisto from his musings. He'd reached the altar without realizing it, and a nun was praying on her rosary whilst giving the violet-haired demon an intense look of hatred. _Why did all the women in the church have it out for him today?_ Mephisto massaged his temples to curb the oncoming headache that he knew the prayer would give him. He was an _exorcist_ for Christ's sake! It wasn't as though he was going to massacre everyone on the premises. Mephisto hurried toward the door just past the altar, eager to get away. When he wrenched it open, a young, dark-skinned man emerged, looking quite shocked to see him. Shocked, and not at all pleased. Clearly he did not think very highly of a demon's presence in a place of worship either. However, to his credit, he greeted the exorcist and asked him politely to wait there while he fetched Father Romero. Mephisto nodded curtly and offered a terse thank you. As the minutes ticked by, the demon again grew curious about the identity of the priest he was to meet. He could not recall ever encountering a "Father Romero," but the man seemed to know him. Mephisto painted a mental image of an old, shriveled Spaniard with a thick accent, but he couldn't have been more off the mark. The man he'd dubbed "Sir" the previous year stood before him, wearing his trademark somber expression and running his fingers through his rapidly-greying hair.

"Lord Pheles," he greeted, offering his hand to shake, "Thank you for coming."

Mephisto accepted the handshake, "Of course, Father Romero. What is the matter you wish to discuss?"

"Not here," the father replied, glancing at the partially-filled pews, "Not now."

Father Romero led the demon to an ancient, rusty, green Oldsmobile in a tucked-away parking lot behind the church. Snarling like a great, angry beast, the engine roared to life, and the car begrudgingly rolled out onto the street. The pair traveled a few blocks with the sounds of New York's hustle and bustle filling the silence between them. Eventually, they pulled up to a bar called _Coraggioso_. Mephisto perked up and gazed at the building with intense curiosity. This place had a history. It held dark secrets and stories of romance, tragedy, and bloodshed. Oh, how he wished to explore it, but - much to his chagrin - he had things he needed to do first. Suppressing a sigh, Mepshisto followed the brooding priest inside, where they took a small table at the back. The demon's eyes roamed the rich walnut panels and decadent furniture reminiscent of the Roaring Twenties - one of his favorite periods in American history. The war to end all wars was over and everyone seemed to be celebrating, even those who had nothing. Of course, some of the party ended when the Great Depression hit, but the culture of excess remained and was still highly romanticized in Film Noir and stories of the mafia. Though the stains had been scrubbed away, Mephisto could still smell the rich tobacco smoke and bootlegged whiskey. He wondered what sort of exciting adventures had happened there. Had it been a speako? Or perhaps a hideout for the mafia or camorra? Father Romero sent a questioning look at the demon's dreamy expression, but said nothing. Eventually, Mephisto snapped back to reality and gave an abashed apology.

"Don't worry about it," the priest replied, wearing a hint of a grin, "What'll you have? My treat."

Father Romero gave the violet-haired demon a skeptical once-over when he requested something fruity and sickly-sweet, but ordered it for him anyway, though not without shaking his head incredulously. He returned a few minutes later with a glass of hard liquor and some pink monstrosity stuffed with strawberries, the latter of which he shoved toward Mephisto as quickly as possible.

"I admit, I'm quite surprised, Father," Mephisto purred teasingly, "I never expected that we would be going out."

The priest flushed with anger and embarrassment and sputtered, "No way in hell!"

Laughing loudly, Mephisto assured him that it was a joke, then went on to ask what they were doing at a bar.

"It's too early to head into the forest. He'll still be there now, but I wanted a chance to debrief you before we go up there."

"Oh? Do tell," a cheshire grin split the demon's lips, his curiosity thoroughly piqued.

"I understand that you have some...special abilities, and we need them to answer some pressing questions," at this, Father Romero trailed off.

"About?" Mephisto prodded, "Don't keep me in suspense!"

"We found her...or we _think_ we did."

"Her?"

"Maria Greyson."

Staring at him, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, Mephisto asked, "Are you sure?"

"No, but I can hope. I haven't been able to get the poor girl off my mind. I see her name every time I set foot in that parish."

_Maria Greyson, 16, presumed dead after the gruesome murders of her parents, Jack and Darcy Greyson. The girl has been missing since the incident, and no trace of her has been found. The killer is still at large._

"I...used to pray that we would find the child alive," the priest continued, "But now I just pray for forgiveness for wishing her dead. A whole year with that monster...I can't imagine..."

Mephisto nodded in understanding, though not agreement. Amaimon had been surprisingly manageable in the last few years; he was hardly the monster he once was. "Perhaps your wish came true. Now, you say you think you found her?"

"Yes. Some ecologists or biologists...some scientists...were working in the woods about an hour out from here, and they found a clearing that was in full bloom in the dead of winter."

"And they found a body there?"

"Not at first. They did some tests, and then the media got wind of it. A lot of people went to see it, and they started getting hurt or scared out of their wits. Apparently tourists weren't allowed. Of course, the Order got involved after that. A particularly clairvoyant woman sensed something beneath the cherry tree, and using some scientific equipment that I honestly don't understand, they got an image of what's under those roots. It looks an awful lot like a corpse to me."

"I assume you tried to dig it up?"

"It didn't end well. I swear, every demon in that damned forest rushed out to protect that tree."

"And that's why I'm here," Mephisto concluded.

"If you can do what they say you can do, we'll know for sure what happened there."

"When can we leave?"

Father Romero smiled grimly, "In an hour or so. Thank you...for agreeing to help."

"I've been very curious as to the events of last year myself. I want to know what Amaimon was up to."

"Of course."

Exactly one hour and twenty-seven minutes later, the duo left the city and drove out to the hiking trails. No one would be meeting them, as Mephisto was to discover. The less intrusive they were, the better. Father Romero led the way up the twisting gravel path that eventually gave rise to a steep, muddy incline. Neither man spoke during the trek, each consumed with his own troubled thoughts. Glowing orbs of gold, red, and green watched them from the shadows, a mixture of wide and slitted pupils following their every step and slowly pressing in on them. A sharp, hissed curse echoed through the trees as Father Romero slipped and fell back, catching himself on a low branch. Hot, salty blood leaked from the laceration on his palm, dripping enticingly onto to cool earth at his feet. Mephisto pulled a silk handkerchief from his breast pocket and tied it around the priest's wound, shooting a menacing glare at the eyes in the darkness that crept ever closer. Amaimon's kin followed the pair as their journey continued, whispering amongst themselves and cackling quietly. To the untrained ear, it would have sounded like the rustling of leaves and twigs cracking under the foot of an unseen stalker. The exorcists ignored the eerie noises that surrounded them and pressed on, eager to get off the trail and into the clearing. When, at last, they stumbled upon the ethereal cherry tree, the voices of the demons were silenced. A sense of serenity washed over them as they stepped out of the forest. For a moment, Amaimon's presence was faintly detectable, but it was probably due to the nature of the glade. There wasn't a demon in sight, Mephisto aside. The men nodded to each other, and Mephisto let out a slow breath. He held out his hand, gloved palm facing the center of the clearing, and boldly stated, "Reverse, Time."

Father Romero gasped as the events of the previous year rushed before his eyes. Mephisto frowned. Amaimon had yet to appear and two weeks had already passed. Surely, if he'd staked a claim to this place he would defend his territory. Another week flew by before he saw him. Amaimon sat beneath the tree, eyes closed and body relaxed. He might have been sleeping, if Mephisto didn't know him better. Amaimon was on guard. As the days wound back, the green-haired demon remained. It wasn't until April 26th that they discovered why. An excavation team had come to the clearing with shovels and wheelbarrows. They'd managed a few scoops of dirt before the two men digging were thrown back so hard by a wave of demons that the trees with which they'd collided - and likely their spines as well - snapped in two. The other members of the team frantically tried to escape. A gargantuan hobgoblin - the latest model of Behemoth - snatched one of them up into its jaws and pinned another to the ground beneath its massive claws. The last remaining member was hunted down by Amaimon himself, who quickly disposed of the interloper. Mephisto glanced at the priest beside him, who frowned at the scene, seeming nonplussed by the nature of the violence. The attack had, in all honesty, been quite tame considering the massacres that had gained the demon his worldwide renown.

As time continued to reverse itself, the duo watched many an errant hiker wander into the clearing, only to be chased out by a variety of earth demons. The only people that ever suffered serious injuries were the ones that dared to damage the area in any way. In February, however, a notable exception appeared. A small party - consisting of two elderly gentlemen, a woman in her forties, and two fresh-faced college students - bearing a multitude of cameras and scientific instruments camped out in the springtime oasis for nearly a month. The tiny forest alcove seemed immune to the blustery, frigid winter surrounding it. The group of biologists, ecologists, and the lone female botanist were intent on determining the meadow's secret. Amaimon knew they were there. He watched them carefully from the fringes of the trees. Yet, for reasons that utterly escaped Mephisto, he left them alone. Even his kin refrained from any sort of mischief. The months wound back further until finally, they reached the fateful day of June 2nd of the prior year. The Earth King had been visiting the tree for nearly three months straight. Now, they would finally see why. Mephisto and Father Romero crept forward - the latter much more reluctantly than than the former - to get a better view of the events to come. It was a strange, surreal experience to see the burial in reverse. The cherry tree regressed until it was a mere seed, which Amaimon handed to an infant greenman. With a flourish of his hand, the flowers vanished, leaving a bare patch of disturbed soil that he quickly removed. What awaited them beneath that dark earth shocked Mephisto more than he'd ever anticipated. The young, sixteen-year-old girl whose face had been - no, _would be_ - emblazoned on the front page of every newspaper, broadcasted on every television screen, the girl whose story would take the internet by storm, lay - as though asleep - inside a casket of shimmering crystal. It was rough and and little notable detail, but it was a beautiful thing for the intention behind its creation. There was raw pain on Amaimon's face, something Mephisto had never expected to see. Another wave of the Earth King's hand removed the glimmering coffin to reveal the girl's fragile frame, covered in nothing but Amaimon's tattered coat. Amaimon lifted Maria out of her grave and set her lightly on the ground before packing the dirt back into the hole he'd dug. The two exorcists watched in stunned silence until the Gehennan prince carried the girl back into the darkness of the surrounding trees.

"Forward, Time," Mephisto said quietly and returned himself and Father Romero to the present. He quickly ushered the priest out of the forest and ventured out alone to investigate the apartment previously-owned by the Greyson family. A young couple had moved in, but neither of them noticed the demon creep into their guest bedroom. "Reverse, Time."

Watching the cleanup process proceed from end to beginning was a macabre spectacle as well - perhaps coming second only to the burial. Splattered blood was painted over pristine white walls. The soft, tan carpet was torn up and replaced with one encrusted with dark, visceral stains. Police officers and exorcists came and went, but none seemed to know what to make of the events that had transpired in that tiny room. As the hours ticked down toward that sorry night, Mephisto felt the need to excuse himself from the area. He had no desire to see that brutality. The demon passed his blood-drenched brother on his way to the other bedroom. A moment later, he realized that he didn't particularly want to hear it either. Mephisto tried to ignore the sounds as he went to check on Maria, but found that she was already dead. Her eyes were lightly closed, and a ghost of a smile was frozen on her cooling lips. With his stomach twisting, Mephisto surveyed the bruises and lacerations that littered the girl's bare, dust-colored skin. Amaimon could be a sadistic bastard at times - that, no one could deny, as the evidence was being created just beyond the paper-thin wall separating the two rooms - but Mephisto had never known his brother to commit this sort of act. It was not as though the Earth King was incapable of it; it was just that he had never shown any interest in such a thing. Besides, he generally left children alone. Though, perhaps he considered her old enough to victimize at sixteen. Mephisto wasn't sure he would ever understand the workings of his brother's mind.

Amaimon returned then, his face unmarred by the mask of death that he would be wearing to the forest in under an hour. Unbridled fury bared the green-haired demon's fangs. He was out for blood. Mephisto watched in wonderment as the murderous look shifted into an anguished one mirroring the pained expression that had twisted his features when he buried the corpse before him. As expected, Amaimon snapped (or rather, unsnapped, from Mephisto's point of view) the Maria's neck. What Mephisto hadn't anticipated, however, was how long his brother had stayed before killing her. It became abundantly clear in those moments that Amaimon hadn't been the one to hurt the girl. In fact, he appeared to be trying to comfort her. They exchanged weak smiles and he allowed her to snuggle up against him as well as her injuries would allow - a gesture surprisingly intimate for the typically-distant demon king. When Amaimon appeared at her windowsill, he looked worried, then after a brief exchange of words, his countenance showed muted despair. Mephisto allowed the time to play forward in its normal progression at that point.

"H-Hey, Angel," Maria said in a small, halting voice. She coughed badly, her thin form convulsing as her lungs struggled to function properly. Mephisto saw a small amount of blood splatter onto the sheets, but he doubted that his brother had noticed it then. He was more focused on surveying the damage.

"Angel?" Mephisto asked at the same time as his brother, when he'd had a second to register her words.

"I'm n-not s'p-posed t' say your n-name," Maria choked, smiling slightly at the green-haired demon.

Mephisto nodded. Of course not. To speak a demon's name was to invite it into one's presence and to present a direct line into the soul. Many demons were so indignant upon their summoning, that they terrorized the poor fool who dared call upon them, and would often kill them when they ceased to amuse. The exorcist watched silently as Maria nestled herself against his brother. His heart ached as he watched the young girl confess her feelings to Amaimon and say her goodbyes. Of all the things Mephisto had thought he might witness on this night, this had never been among the possibilities. The demon looked away from the scene as Amaimon, at Maria's request, committed his first killing of the night. Mephisto commanded time to return to the present, barely registering the year that passed as a blur of color and dulled sound. He left the way he'd come, not taking as much care to go unnoticed. The girl jumped as she spotted a shadow moving on the wall. Mephisto silently slipped out the door before she was able to catch a real glimpse of him. He heard her say something to man next to her, but Mephisto was already halfway down the hall before the door began to open, and was down the stairs before the man poked his head out to look around. The demon journeyed back to the forest, to the enchanted clearing with the shimmering cherry tree. Amaimon was there this time, staring sullenly at the fluttering pink petals that lazily drifted to the ground. The green-haired demon cocked his head slightly at the sound of his brother approaching, but otherwise didn't respond. Mephisto stood next to the younger demon and watched the cherry blossoms in silence.

"Why did she call you Angel?" Mephisto asked softly after a while.

"She seemed to be under the impression that I was some sort of guardian angel," Amaimon murmured, his voice wavering slightly, "Aniue, are you going to send me back to Gehenna?"

Mephisto lips twitched up into a small smile. _Was that what he was so worried about?_ "Why would I do that?" he replied without hesitation.

Amaimon's head jerked up, and he stared at his older brother with wide eyes, "I killed people."

"Yes, to protect a child. I can hardly blame you for that," Mephisto answered, patting his shocked brother on the head.

The Earth King looked at the ground, his mixed emotions preventing him from meeting Mephisto's gaze. He was grateful to be allowed to stay, but at the same time, the dull ache in his chest had returned in full force. It felt as though he was caught in an iron maiden. His eyes burned, and his cheeks reddened with shame. Amaimon didn't want his brother to see him in mourning. To his surprise, Mephisto pulled him into a loose hug.

"You're allowed to miss someone you cared about," he said quietly.

A few tears spilled over at that point, and Amaimon leaned against his brother for support. It shouldn't hurt this much. She was just a human. He shouldn't care this much. _It shouldn't hurt like this._ But the anniversary of her death caused the pain of loss to rear its monstrous head. A few shaky breaths helped to clear his dark thoughts, and the Earth King pulled away from his brother to sit at the base of the tree. Mephisto silently joined him after a moment, not trusting his words. He was honestly at a loss. How does one comfort his grieving brother who had previously seemed disinterested in allowing anyone or anything into his heart? After a while, Amaimon asked his brother if he thought Maria was happier now. Mephisto assured him that anyone would be delighted to rest eternally in such a beautiful place. This simple statement brought a small smile to Amaimon's face. With some prodding from Mephisto, the Earth King explained what had happened to Maria the previous year. Most of it, the violet-haired Gehennan Prince had already puzzled out for himself, but he needed to hear it from his brother. However, it seemed that Amaimon's tendency to talk incessantly had returned to him, and he began to reminisce about a distant memory. Mephisto leaned back into the tree, humoring his little brother, and listened keenly to the story that was about to unfold. It was the story of a little girl who unconsciously tamed a demon and wormed her way into his heart and soul. It was the story of a girl who desperately wanted to live, but who was trapped in hell, not by demons, but by humans. It was the story of a girl named Maria Greyson, whose light was forever extinguished on the second of June, in the year 2025.

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><p><strong>Azreal: Would you like to hear the story too? If so, please stay tuned!<br>**


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